


penumbra

by maiaslightwood



Series: red tales of edom. [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Curses, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Implied Sexual Content, Knight Maia, Rapunzel Elements, True Love Conquers All, Witch Clary, clary stabchild makes several appearances, or the one in which claia say 'fuck raziel lives'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiaslightwood/pseuds/maiaslightwood
Summary: The last five years were a bleak grey of hopelessness and anger but now, within a month, Maia had turned her life into one that was worth living, worth fighting Heaven itself for.Once upon a time, in a land of red sands and black seas, a duke's daughter is cursed to spend her life locked away in a tower in the woods. That is until a wolf stumbles upon her cage and reignites hope for a brighter future.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Maia Roberts
Series: red tales of edom. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439836
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9
Collections: shadowhunters sapphic ficathon, shadowhunters sapphic library





	penumbra

**Author's Note:**

> for the [Sh Sapphic Ficathon: week2](https://twitter.com/shsapphicfics/status/1203736029489979392?s=20)  
> prompts: _flowers_ & _beware of the witch_
> 
> i’ve been wanting to write this story for a while now and i’ve had bits and pieces of it done already while also writing cynosure so the prompts for the ficathon gave me that last push of inspiration.  
> this is a prequel to [another fic of mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031409) but you won’t have to read either to understand the other. things that happened here are vaguely referenced in cynosure and i personally feel like you’ll enjoy that one a bit more if you’ve read this, just because it adds depth to Clary and Maia that that story due to time and other focus, does not provide.  
> both are quite different from my usual writing style but i’ve really like delving deeper into this world and series and view it all under a different spotlight. 
> 
> **Trigger Warnings:**  
>  More or less vague mentions of murder, blood, death, and war. Nothing too detailed though.

**penumbra –** a partial shadow between regions of complete shadow and complete illumination  
any "gray area" where things aren't all black and white

* * *

**i.**

Once upon a time, there was a land of red sands and black seas where every creature possessed a magic of its own and miracles were not just dreams of a desperate soul; where love was still known to conquer all and friendship and family worth dying for. Here, on the border between two realms where an ancient feud had turned into a centuries-long, bloody war, stood a tall lean stone tower in the middle of an evergreen clearing. It had no outside doors, only one window facing out west and no visible trace of who had built it. The stone was rough, ordinary brickwork, coated in vines of poisonous ivy as if it was actually decades old.

Villagers nearby swore the tower had suddenly appeared overnight as if a sign by the Gods. They had tried with any power they possessed to enter or tear the tower down but neither magic nor man-made tools were any success. For years, people from all over the land came to conquer the mystical building but anyone who spent just one night near it came back frightened, speaking of voices and sounds and lights illuminating from the tower’s window once the clock struck midnight. Yet when daylight came, there was nothing but an eerie quiet in the clearing and no trace of a living soul found nearby.

Slowly, rumors spread that the tower was enchanted to imprison the evil spirit of a witch that had roamed the forest for a time, killing men in their sleep and always blending into the shadow of night before she could be caught. The murders had stopped as suddenly as they had started, at the same time as the tower had magically appeared. The villagers avoided the tower and the parts of the forest around it and whenever a brave soul came to finally uncover the mystery, they always left just shortly after midnight, scared out of their minds.

By the time war came to be on the village’s doorstep, the tower had stood unmoving and unconquered for five long years. Wildflowers bloomed at its feet and no matter what the season, this part of the forest seemed to be stuck in a beautiful kind of springtime as everything remained a lush green. Some people thought this to be a sign that the person trapped inside the tower was not, in fact, a resentful ghost but maybe a kind spirit. Still, no one dared to stay there overnight.

On another night where fights roared nearby and coated the earth with blood, the clearing lay as still as ever until a wolf, breathtaking in its size, stumbled out from between the darkness of the trees. Its fur, a soft grey and black, was matted by blood in places and more of it flowed from its muzzle to drip down onto the young grass. It limped across the clearing, its bright green eyes half-closed in pain and then collapsed into the shadow of the tower, into a small bed of wild, midnight blue cornflowers.

And if anyone would have been present that night, they would have seen that beneath the pale half-moon light, the wolf transformed, slowly and painfully into the form of a young woman. The fur turned into warm tawny-brown skin and a cloud of tight black curls, sticky with blood. Her chest was rising heavily, her breath rattling in her body as she curved into herself, hugging her knees close and shivering from the night’s cold. Her whimpering echoed across the clearing but there was no one there to hear or help.

By morning the body was gone as if it had never existed and the only thing speaking of her presence was her shape in the grass. Even the blood had been washed away by the morning dew.

Up in the tower, the woman awoke, blinking heavily against the dim light. She was wrapped in warm sheets, protecting her nudity and body heat and at the foot of the narrow divan she had slept on someone had laid out clothing for her.

“I hope they will fit you. They were the only thing I had,” a voice rang out across the small round room, soft and melodic as the birds singing outside into the quiet morning.

The woman spun around, clutching the sheets to her chest and desperately grabbed for a sword that was not there. In the corner of the room, balancing a tray within delicate hands stood another woman. Gold reddish hair the color of the Harvest Moon cascaded down her back in a tangle of waves and her eyes were as green as the grass at the feet of the tower. They were warm too, without a trace of malice, lit up by a smile curving over pink lips.

“Who are you?” the woman on the bed demanded, her voice dry from disuse and the blood the wolf had choked on. “Where am I?”

The other regarded her for a moment, then pushed the tray towards her. There were purple berries and round red apples, slices of warm bread and freshly brewed herbal tea. When the other woman did not eat, the redhead blew out an exasperated sigh, then sat down in one of the two chairs – one of the few pieces of furniture within the room.

“I am Clary. And you are in my tower.”

**ii.**

The woman on the bed was Maia Roberts, a Knight of the Jade Moon, a general under Prince Magnus of Edom’s command who was leading the war against the demon masses of Dudael. That night she had slipped into her wolf form like a second skin and chased the Greater Demon Moloch into the woods beyond the battleground and slain him too but had not made it out of the fight unscathed. Disoriented and blind with pain she had not known where to go and her body, unable to hold up the magic, had transformed back into her human form.

The woman in the tower was Clarissa Morgenstern, the daughter of the cruel Duke Valentine who had killed her mother in a fit of anger and tried to use Clary and the unique magic she possessed for his own mad dreams of greatness. But Clary had been more powerful than her father could have ever imagined, more powerful than her brother even who had perished at sea. Such a power was hard to hide and the Angel Raziel, angered by the way Duke Valentine claimed and desired to use it, had stolen Clary from her bed and sealed her away in a tower beyond the border so her father may never reach her.

“I am only allowed one night a year outside, so I can let my toes feel the grass and my soul the forest around me,” Clary admitted to Maia after she had told her story. “It must have been fate you stumbled upon my tower on this exact night.”

Their eyes caught over the expanse of the room then, green on brown, and Maia wanted to burst out laughing at such a ridiculous notion.

“Fate. Right,” was all she said though as she did not dare to disrespect the woman who had taken her in and fed her and tended to her wounds. By now she was dressed in a pale blouse, too tight in her shoulders and arms, and light pants that only reached her ankles – but those were better than sitting opposite a stranger, covered only by the rough wool she had used as a blanket.

“But I must thank you. For saving me, for giving me shelter,” she continued and meant it from the bottom of her heart. The circumstances were quite strange and parts of it still felt like a fever dream; to be rescued by a beautiful woman an Angel had locked away out of jealousy. It made her angry to think anyone would dare treat an innocent so for something they had no control over but at the same time, Maia had seen enough, lived through enough to be cautious of the stranger opposite her. Whatever her powers were, to be able to catch the attention of a Higher Being must have been truly terrifying and Maia felt all too defenseless without any weapon.

“There is no need, truly. You required help and I was there at the right time. You strike me as someone who would do the same for a hopeless soul.” Clary’s voice was gentle but within her eyes something sparked, challenging and daring.

Maia nodded, understanding. “You want me to help you find a way out of here.”

“Well, I would not turn on you if you do not agree. But I must admit, I was hoping you would return the favor.” Then, much softer, Clary added: “You are the first human soul I have spoken to in five years.”

It sounded so lonely, a cruel, unwarranted fate.

“Those powers of yours,” Maia tried gently.

Clary scoffed, wringing her hands. “A power the Angels bestowed upon me at birth, then were too scared would threaten them.”

She raised two of her fingers and moved them in a complicated pattern through the air, unlike any other spell work Maia had ever seen. At once, a shape of glittering gold grew, then dissolved again as quickly as it had come. But to Clary’s feet, flowers had bloomed and grew still. Yellow and orange and lovely they stretched towards her ankles and wrapped around them in a gentle embrace.

“You can grow flowers?” Maia asked incredulously.

Clary shrugged but her smirk gave her away. “Among other things.”

“And what other things?”

“Well... I am still not sure. It comes to me as I need it.”

“I see.”

Now, Maia had never been one to worship the Angels or give much thought to them at all. After all, they had long since abandoned the people of Edom to look after humans on a magicless earth and every few centuries one of them would remember and bring down some catastrophe or another in retaliation for the magic used by her people. Clary seemed to be only the most recent example.

As a knight, Maia had sworn to protect the weak, defend the innocent and bring justice to those who acted on their own, selfish gain. Unfathomably, she trusted Clary to speak the truth for in her magic and eyes she had not seen nor felt a drop of evil.

“Then how do we free you?”

**iii.**

The Angel Raziel had cursed Clary so she would never be able to leave the tower except for one night a year. The doors would seal shut and disappear again once the sun rose and any escape out of the window was impossible, for there seemed to be an invisible shield, keeping her inside. For years, whenever a soul had tried to conquer the tower and uncover its mystery, Clary had called down to them from the top of the tower but the wind and spell had distorted her voice and she had watched powerlessly as they all ran away in horror.

When she had found Maia, unconscious and body shaking with cold and fever, she had seen her only chance to ever find someone to help her escape the tower and defeat Raziel for good. But beneath the pale moonlight, when she had gathered Maia’s body to her own and slowly climbed the tower’s stairs with her, she had also admired Maia’s beauty, the defined muscles in her arms and legs, the heat she radiated, the elegant curve of her lips and softness of her skin. It had after all been five years since she had seen another person, longer still since she had held another woman so close.

So, after they had discussed their plan and Maia had eaten all the breakfast and it was time for her to leave before Raziel realized there were now two women in the tower, Clary almost wanted to ask her to stay. There were a million questions on the tip of her tongue, about the outside world, the things that had changed, her father and the king and even more so, who the beautiful woman wearing her clothes was. She wanted to see if those lips could curve into a smile and if it would, as she assumed, eclipse the sun herself in its warmth.

Yet all she could hold onto was Maia’s promise, clear and confident.

“I will be back tonight."

Then Clary drew another shape with her fingers and her hair grew, longer than it already was, to cascade down the window and along the tower’s wall. Cautiously Maia held onto the wave of curls.

“Are you sure it will not hurt you?” she asked with her eyes jumping back to Clary and looking for any sign of discomfort.

Clary nodded and smiled even through the swirl of unease in her stomach at watching her only hope leave.

Then Maia swung herself over the windowsill and outside into the fresh morning air and began her descent down to earth. Once her feet landed back on solid ground she looked up once more and bowed to where Clary was looking out the window, her hair now shrinking back to its former length.

“Until then, princess,” she called up and then from one moment to the next had disappeared between the trees she had stumbled out of the night before, not awaiting Clary’s reply.

**iv.**

The plan was this: The Angel Raziel came by the tower every day between noon and midnight. Sometimes in his heavenly form, sometimes in the form of a rabbit on the clearing, a bird on the windowsill or a sparkling butterfly landing upon Clary’s hand. Every day he would ask her if she would renounce her powers and choose freedom instead and every day Clary would tell him – most times not in quite so polite words – she would rather die. Now, the Angel was unable to kill Clary unless she had used her powers to commit a crime or hurt an innocent person but as such was not the case, he kept her locked away and told her he would be back the next day.

With time and years spent in the tower and the occasional remark by Raziel, Clary had discovered, however, a way to break through the barriers holding her but what she needed were things not within her reach, things only an outsider could bring to her.

So, she had tasked Maia to find her a single strand of unicorn hair, a blood-red ruby the size of a thumbnail, the eyes of a thirteen-year-old toad and a handful of freshly picked vervain, grown beneath the moonlight at the foot of the tower.

That very same day, Clary felt so anxious she walked the expanse of the small room for hours, wringing her hands and unable to eat even a bite of food. By the early afternoon hour, when a pretty bird with soft pink feathers flew up to her windowsill, her feet were hurting and she had almost convinced herself Maia would never return and leave her to rot in the tower for the rest of her life. For who would ever risk their life and the wrath of an Angel for a stranger?

“Now, Clarissa,” the bird sang all too sweetly, sending a shiver down her spine. “Are you ready to renounce your powers and rejoin the world as a simple mundane?”

She threw a candle in Raziel’s direction and narrowly missed him, only because he spread his wings and flew out of reach, squawking.

“That is not very kind!”

Clary rounded on him, eyes wild with fury. “Leave and die for all I care! Keep me locked up here for all of eternity, I will not let you take away my magic because you are nothing more than a bored, jealous ghost.”

It was perhaps a blessing Raziel had chosen a bird-form to appear today for in his heavenly glory he may have struck her for such words. As it was he picked after her hand with his rounded grey beak but Clary was faster and stepped away quickly.

“I see your night outside has made you angry rather than appreciate my generosity,” he sang, ruffling his feathers. “Fine then. From now on I will no longer grant you such freedom. We shall see how well you like rotting away in this tower after another decade.”

Clary lunged for him then with a half-mad scream but the bird flew out the window and into the clear blue sky with a cry that sounded too much like cackling laughter. It was as if all hope vanished with him too.

And yet, when the sky had turned dark and stars had come out to shine, just as the clock struck midnight, a gentle voice could be heard from outside the tower, calling up.

Clary had curled up on the _divan_ earlier, tired and hopeless, but the call rose her from sleep.

“Princess in the tower, come out!”

And when Clary looked down from the window, truly, at the foot of the tower and staring up at her, was Maia. Now the moonlight glinted off the red and black and golden details of her uniform, off the armor laced into the fabric that fit her so much better than the silks Clary had given her that morning. A leather satchel hung from her shoulder, dangling at her side.

At once Clary drew the rune that made her hair grow so Maia could climb up towards her with an easy grace that gave away nothing of last night’s injuries. Soon the two women were face to face beneath the yellow glow of the moon, staring upon one another in a shade of wonder as if neither could quite believe the other still existed and had not been a dream.

“I am no princess,” Clary said but it was more a breath of air dying on Maia’s cheek.

Quickly she helped the other woman to heave herself over the windowsill instead of staying in the awkward position she was in, dangling from the tower for anyone to see. Their hands brushed in a gentle, fluttering touch before they both moved to put some distance between them. And even though no candle was lit within the tower, the darkness did little to hide the blush coloring Clary’s cheeks a pretty pink.

Maia grinned. “Then what should I say to make myself heard?” She moved towards the table, pouring herself a glass of water. “ _Clary, Clary let down your hair?_ ”

Clary rolled her eyes but her blush did not fade. Almost as if enchanted she watched Maia drown the contents of her glass in quick gulps, watched the way her throat moved and how she made a pleased sound when her thirst had been quenched. Then, quickly, she averted her gaze when the other looked up.

“I was not sure if you would come back,” she admitted and tried not to let her voice shake with the feeling of hopelessness that had settled within her heart over the past hours.

Across the room, Maia gave an incredulous shake of her head. “I said I would help you. I am a knight of my word.”

“A knight?” Clary quirked an eyebrow but the other woman simply shrugged, then dug into her satchel to pull out a small packet wrapped in linens. She tossed it through the air and Clary caught it on pure reflex.

“Delivered with the best wishes from the Prince of Edom and his gratitude for helping me.”

When Clary unwrapped the fabric, she found a small ruby within her palm, roughly the size of her thumbnail and sparkling like blood. She stared at it unblinkingly, unable to comprehend that truly, she was one step closer to freedom than she had been for five long years. Meanwhile, Maia had lit a few candles on the table, casting the room in a warmer, golden glow, making it easier to recognize the deep gratitude within Clary’s gaze when she looked up to catch her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice feather soft and likely close to tears.

Maia did not seem to know how to deal with that so she simply cleared her throat, then nodded towards the gemstone. “Do not thank me yet. Thank me once we got you out of here.”

And so, they went to work. Sitting side by side on the bare wooden boards of the floor, a cauldron between them, Clary slowly revealed the spell that would finally break her free of her confinement.

First, the ruby had to be boiled down until it was nothing more than a mass of red liquid. The other ingredients would be added as they came but it was important the vervain was mixed in last and that the potion would sit for thirty-three days and thirty-three nights. Only then would it be powerful enough to break through the Angel’s spells.

“And you are sure this will work?” Maia asked, eyeing the melted down, bloodlike liquid doubtfully. The thought of the other ingredients and that Clary had to drink it all until the last drop made her shudder and her stomach turn in knots.

“As sure as I can be,” Clary admitted but if this was her one and only chance at freedom Maia would not rid her off the little hope she had.

So, the next evening, just after midnight and calling up “ _Clary, Clary let down your hair_ ,” she brought her the unicorn hair. And when Clary added it to the mix the liquid sizzled and turned from deep crimson to a pale, shimmering orange.

Clary clapped her hands excitedly then muttered an incantation in a language Maia did not know.

“What was that,” she asked once the spell seemed complete for now.

“The old language of Dudael. My father taught it to me along with spells that would make your blood run cold if you knew.”

The green in Clary’s eyes seemed harsher then and for a split second again, Maia wondered if maybe Raziel had been right to imprison her, that maybe there was more bad than good that Clary could do. Then Clary’s fingers brushed hers where their hands had rested closely together upon the floor.

“He tried to wield me as a weapon, wanted to use my powers for himself. Just like Raziel desires to do. I swear to you, all I ever wanted is a normal life and no part in this.”

Strangely, Maia believed her and the sincerity in her gaze. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

“Show me a different spell then. One that _you_ love.”

When Clary’s mouth split into a bright smile, she knew she had asked for the right thing.

This time, instead of flowers, Clary let rose petals fall from the ceiling – white and red and yellow and soft when they landed on Maia’s outstretched hands. Then she summoned burning sunlight from her palm, bright golden and blinding in all its glory.

“More,” Maia breathed in awe for she had never seen or heard of anyone who could do quite the same.

Clary laughed and the sunlight burned brighter for a moment, then flickered out of existence.

“Tomorrow,” she promised with a bright smile and sweat on her brow from exhaustion.

The next day, Maia came to the tower with empty hands. She confessed so guiltily when she had jumped over the windowsill and detangled herself form Clary’s curls.

But instead of anger or disappointment, something like wonder crossed Clary’s eyes, glowing a deep ocean green in the dim light of the room.

“And still you came to me?” she asked in a hushed voice though there was no one else who could hear except the two souls, high up in their tower.

“Of course,” Maia replied, more urgently than she had first intended and felt heat creep up her neck when she admitted: “You said you would show me more of your magic.”

For a moment, Clary simply stared at her, blinking rapidly as if she was trying to wake herself from a dream or hallucination. But when Maia did not laugh or gave any other indication that she was lying or unreal, the most beautiful smile lit up her face, enough to illuminate the room under the cloak of night. Maia could not help but return it, more cautiously and barely visible in the gentle curve of her lips but it seemed to be the right response as Clary took her by the hand and dragged her over to the _divan_.

That night she told Maia stories, painting vivid sparkling images into the air with her hands that moved as if they were living breathing beings. There were fairies and dragons and princesses holding hands and running with laugher. There was a wolf too, oddly similar to Maia’s own form, and it poked its small head at the back of her hand with a wagging tail.

By morning the two women woke, with arms wrapped around each other as they had fallen asleep while trading stories of their pasts. Maia had spoken little of her childhood and more of the companions she had found at court, the prince and his band of loyal friends who were her new family now. Clary had picked happy memories of her mother, of collecting flowers with her or bringing things onto paper with paint and chalk. And during the night, minutes stretching into hours and the candles burning down, the two had discovered they perhaps had more in common than they first thought.

At some point, Clary had moved to hide her face at the side of Maia’s neck, where the skin was warm and soft and a few curls tickled her forehead. When they woke, the two stared upon one another for a moment, blinking rather comically and then, with throats being cleared and arms and legs awkwardly detangled, they moved to bring some distance between them. Only the _divan_ was so small, Clary ended up falling off it and down to the floor with a yelp.

That broke the tension somehow as Maia snickered, trying to hide it with a cough, and Clary rubbed her head with a sulking expression. Nonetheless, the mood shifted, to a warm and easy companionship, achingly familiar somehow as the two women got ready for the day and shared a quick breakfast over silent smiles.

As a goodbye, when the sun had just breached the horizon to wipe it pink, Clary leaned down over the windowsill where Maia dangled from her hair and brushed a kiss over her cheek. They both seemed surprised by the action but when Maia had bid her goodbye and faded back into the shelter of the trees she found herself smiling so brightly, her hand reaching to brush over the skin Clary’s lips had touched as if to prolong the fluttering feeling they had brought to her chest.

**v.**

From then on, Maia would come to the tower every night even as the hunt for the toad’s eyes continued.

“You do not know how hard it is to find one that is exactly thirteen years old,” she complained once, brushing the wetness of rain from her armor.

Yet the soft looks the two women shared, the tender smiles that grew brighter with each visit, were proof enough that their time spent together could never be a waste. Every day Clary would count down the hours until midnight until Maia’s call would ring out and she could pull her up the tower. The last five years were a bleak grey of hopelessness and anger but now, within a month, Maia had turned her life into one that was worth living, worth fighting Heaven itself for.

They would try new spells Clary made up on the spot, and Maia made for a delightful audience. Or they would simply talk with knees tugged together and hushed voices; of past and present but never of future.

Then, one night when the moon was full in all its milky-yellow glory, Maia called up with an especially giddy jingle to her voice.

“ _Clary, oh Clary, let down your hair!_ ”

It had become a joke between them by now yet when Clary pulled Maia up with an exasperated eye roll, the other’s grin was brighter than usual, laced with excitement instead of gentle teasing.

Once in the room, she held out a small pouch, waving it gently and when Clary opened it she found two eyeballs staring back at her. The sight would have been disgusting if it had not made tears prick at her own eyes.

“Found these too,” Maia said and waved a spray of freshly picked vervain in her direction.

Without much thought and all too suddenly, Clary bridged the distance between them and threw her arms around Maia’s neck, burying her face where she felt warm and safe and skin smelled of pine woods and sea salt. She did so partially to hide her tears but mainly because her heart felt full to the brim with gratitude, with happiness, with… love.

Maia stood still as a stone pillar for a moment, maybe unsure of how to react but then, feeling Clary’s body tremble with tears against her own, she wrapped her arms around her slender form and held her tightly. Within their chests, their hearts raced as one, against each other, saying everything their mouths could not quite yet with neither words nor actions.

After what could have been a minute or a lifetime, the two separated, a bit awkwardly as they avoided each other’s gaze. Still, Clary took the vervain from Maia’s hand with a gentle touch to her knuckles and sent her a small, soft smile.

“Thank you, Maia. Truly.”

It was the first time she said her name.

Clary went to pull the cauldron from out of the closet, then added the toad’s eyes to boil them down and tried not to think of the fact that she would have to drink this too. Once it had all mixed into a dark, almost black liquid she sprinkled the vervain into it, stirred the pot for thirty-three times in each direction and put it back into its hiding spot.

“What now,” Maia, who had watched the whole thing quietly but intensely, asked, still standing near the window as if at any moment, she would jump right out of it to run back to her people.

Clary rose with a sigh from where she had been sitting on the floor, her eyes filled with sorrow and her heart heavy at what she had to say next.

“Now, you have brought me everything I asked. Thank you.”

Maia blinked a few times, uncomprehending of what it was the other was trying to say. Once it became clear Clary was telling her she was free to go, to bid her farewell and possibly never see her again, she could not help but shake her head on a laugh.

There was a deep-rooted fondness sparkling in her gaze when she spoke up. “You cannot get rid of me so easily, Clary Morgenstern.”

Clary gasped, then laughed, a tear spilling down her cheek and turning her chuckle into a wet sound, almost a sob. She wiped at her face quickly as if Maia had not already seen how overwhelmed she was.

“Fray,” she mumbled as the other woman reached for her hands, so naturally as if they had always done so. “That was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Then, Clary Fray,” Maia said, squeezing her hands and tugging her towards the _divan_ to sit down. “How about you show me more of your magic?”

Maia expected her to laugh again, to swirl her hands and draw complicated patterns and show her something new. Instead, next to her, Clary remained quiet, their hands still clasped between them. Even without meeting her gaze, Maia felt the intensity of it on the side of her face, trying to burn right through her to her very core and answer some question or ten.

“Why are you staying?” she whispered finally into the quiet of the room and into the quiet between them too. The only background noise was the crackling of candle flames, the rush of wind outside and the occasional cry of an owl.

Maia breathed in, then cleared her throat although she knew she could not say what she wanted to, what Clary needed to hear.

“Because you are my friend.”

_Because I care about you. Because you made me feel things again, I thought were lost to me long ago. Because my heart yearns for you whenever we are apart._

Clary’s smile tightened a little and her eyes narrowed as if she could tear the true words from Maia’s lips.

“Friend?”

Maia hummed, not trusting her voice not to betray her.

“And what about your other friends then?” Clary asked.

“What about them?”

“You could spend your nights with them, helping them. Instead, you are here, with me, someone you met only a few weeks ago.”

Maia avoided her gaze, staring straight ahead where the candlelight left flickering shadows on the round stone walls.

“Fighting is at a standstill for now.”

“And you simply enjoy climbing the walls of a tower while tangled into ridiculously long hair and spend your nights with a girl that has been locked away for years.”

The corners of Maia’s lips ticked up in the barest hint of a smile.

“There are far worse ways to spend your night.”

“Better ones too,” Clary shrugged, then, when Maia’s head spun around and her gaze fixed on her in wide-eyed surprise, color flooded her cheeks with red. “I mean… with your _other_ friends.”

“And with you?” Maia asked, suddenly all too breathless and leaning closer without even noticing.

Clary swallowed, the sound ringing loudly within the silence of the room but she could hardly hear it above the sound of blood rushing in her ears, her heart drumming a frantic stampede within her chest.

With their faces only a breath apart, it was easier to notice the difference in Clary’s eyes, the green almost overtaken entirely by the black of her iris and fixated on where Maia’s tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip.

“Maia,” she whispered, almost a whine and then all of a sudden lurched forward, bridging the distance between them and framing the other’s face with trembling fingers. Her lips trembled too where they met Maia’s mouth, a little too desperate, swallowing both their moans of surprise and longing.

Almost the same moment, before Maia could react much except with her heartbeat racing as if she had run through the forest for hours, Clary leaned back again with wide, panicked eyes.

“Forgive me,” she swore under her breath, shaking her head so curls of red curtained her face. “I was… you are…”

She seemed as lost as Maia was and so, because they both would have sat there for hours, unable to truly convey what they felt with words, Maia leaned forward again without much thought, to gently trace Clary’s lips with her own. It was barely a touch, soft and tender and a careful first taste, but before long both of them had reached out to tangle their hands in the other’s hair, to pull and move and press closer and rid each other almost desperately of their layers of clothing to reveal warm skin and even warmer desire.

With the tips of Clary’s fingers running down her neck, igniting goosebumps in their wake, Maia thought this would have to be what sunlight tasted like; like happiness in her veins, a flutter low in her belly, sweetness on her tongue. It lit a feeling in her heart, wrapped itself around the core of her very soul that she had not felt in years, one she thought she never would let herself feel again; a feeling like coming home after too much time spent away.

**vi.**

They loved each other for every single one of the thirty-three nights it took for the potion to finish.

**vii.**

On the day when finally the potion would be ready, Raziel came in form of a squirrel, perched on the windowsill and watching Clary for a moment in silence. He had noticed her to be happier in the past months, smiling and less irritated at his questions and there was a hopeful glow about her that was more than just a little suspicious.

“Well, Clarissa, are you ready to renounce your powers today?”

She startled when he spoke up and tried to school her face into a mask of usual defiance but the light within her green eyes did not die.

“No. Come back tomorrow, maybe you will have better luck then.”

And the squirrel disappeared with a huff. But just after the clock had struck midnight and the moon had reached her highest peak in the sky, the Angel descended again – not in the form of an animal this time but in the shape of a man with wings so wide they could hug the whole tower if they wanted to.

Silently he landed in the darkness of the woods and watched as a young woman approached the tower and called out towards Clarissa; as she climbed the walls, dangling from a mass of reddish curls and as the two embraced and kissed with giddy laughter within sight of the window.

Raziel had taken many precautions to ensure the Morgenstern daughter would never leave, would hand her powers over eventually so he would no longer wake in fear of what she was able to do. But never had he considered the most human emotion of all to throw a wrench in his plans.

**viii**.

Clary’s hands were shaking with excitement as she moved towards the closet to bring out the cauldron with the finished potion. Finally, suddenly, freedom was within reach and she could not wait to escape the confines of the tower, to run freely and see everything the world had to offer. Still, she hesitated, looking at the almost clear liquid for a moment.

In all their nights together, she and Maia had avoided the subject almost forcefully. She had been too afraid to ask, to scared of the answer she would receive and too confused by her own heart’s desires. There was a whole world waiting for her but every time she thought about it, there was always Maia at her side, steady and dependable and warm. What good were all the riches and vastness of the universe if Maia was not there to share it with her.

And as she turned around to say something or ask or just to take another look upon her love before her life would be forever changed, Clary froze at the sight before her.

Maia was still standing in her spot near the window but she was no longer alone. Behind her and holding her arms in a tight grip, stood Raziel, illuminated by heaven’s light and his bright blue eyes so full of fury it made Clary take a step back instinctively.

“So, this is what you have been planning,” he said, his voice booming with rage and the walls of the tower shook from his power.

“Please…” Clary whispered, her heart racing and eyes burning, fixed on Maia and the mask of fear on her face. “Please do not hurt her.”

“Truly, I must thank you. You have made all of this so much easier.” He laughed then, an ugly, harsh sound that made the hair on Clary’s arms and neck stand up. “I could not have planned it better myself.”

Maia yelped when Raziel’s grip on her tightened and now Clary made to take a step closer, her teeth clenched with fear and fury.

“Let her go,” she pleaded although her voice sounded steadier than her heart felt, sick with worry and running wild in her chest.

“I will. Once you hand your powers over to me both of you will be free to leave and do whatever it is you humans find pleasure in.” He grinned and showed rows of sharp, pearl white teeth.

“Clary, no-,” Maia tried but her call was cut off when Raziel pulled one of his arms across her throat to silence her.

There was no way to tell if Raziel was lying or not but choosing between her powers and Maia was hardly a choice at all. One had gotten her locked in a tower for years. The other had shown her a taste of freedom she had never felt before.

And so, Clary nodded and took another cautious step closer.

“I will,” she said, raising her chin and hoped she looked more confident than she felt under the ice-cold gaze of the Angel.

Maia tried to shake her head but due to the arm over her throat it was only the barest hint of a movement, ruffling her curls. Her brown eyes were wide, desperate to make Clary listen to her, to make her see.

But Clary already knew.

“Let her go first,” she demanded, her hands trembling at her sides.

The Angel laughed again, a booming sound echoing into the night. “No, Clarissa. I have waited long enough. Pay me what is mine.”

 _I was never yours_. She had said the same thing to her father, the very night before Raziel had stolen her from her bed, her daggers coated in the blood of the men she had killed in revenge of the women who had suffered at their hands. He had laughed in her face, cruel and uncaring for her tears and told her her powers belonged to him alone.

“Very well,” Clary whispered now and took another step forward.

Her eyes locked on Maia and she hoped even without time, without words she would understand.

Swiftly she raised two fingers to her forehead and then drew the complicated golden pattern floating before her mind’s eye. It shimmered and glittered in her imagination and then in the air between them as she bent it into existence. Just as she drew the last swirl, completing the ancient spell most had long forgotten, she saw Maia close her eyes and brace herself for the impact.

Then sunlight burst forward, not from Clary’s palm alone this time but her whole body seemed alive with light – blinding and bright hot. Like the vines of the poisonous ivy outside, it leaped forward, raining down like rose petals and hissed like candle flames and enveloped Raziel in all its might.

His grip on Maia loosened as he let out a grunt of surprise and she ducked away from the blinding light and Angel’s strength. A scream tore through the night as all of Clary’s power embraced him, forming into daggers of its own and eating away at him, raging with all five years of agony and torture and insults it had endured.

As quickly as it had started the light faded again, shrinking back towards Clary’s outstretched palms and the two women watched, one in shock and one in satisfaction, as the Angel before them burned and then crumbled to nothing more than grey dust, swept up by the nighttime breeze coming in through the window.

“Is he-,” Maia started but could not finish her question, her body shaking with the hurried breaths tearing at her throat.

Clary too was breathing hard but for her it was the strength suddenly racing through her, a new shade of magic she had never tasted before, a door inside herself suddenly wide open she had never dared to unlock.

“I think so,” she whispered, blinking unbelieving at the spot where the Angel had stood. “Or I think as dead as he can be.”

She turned to face Maia then, expecting to finally see the fear she had been looking for since the two had met. Instead, all she could find within warm brown eyes was awe and happiness and then nothing at all because Maia had crossed the room with a few quick strides and thrown her arms around Clary’s neck. Both of their bodies were shaking and it took a moment for Clary to realize it was with laughter and that the wetness on her cheeks and neck stemmed from tears of happiness.

“Are you hurt?” she whispered into Maia’s hair and tightened her arms around the warm weight of her body, glad to feel them pressed together and whole and alive.

“I am fine,” Maia whispered back, breathless, then leaned away, only a little, to cup Clary’s face between her palms. “How did you do that? Why did you not-”

“I told you. Some spells come to me when I truly need them.” Clary felt her lips tremble as her grip on Maia’s waist tightened, her fingers digging into the plates of armor and soft leather straps. “And I have never been more afraid then I was just now. Seeing you in danger,” her voice broke on the word and she swallowed before she could carry on. “I was terrified.”

“Oh, Clary,” Maia said, her voice and eyes filled with a feeling Clary could feel echoing within her chest.

They met halfway in a messy kiss, tasting of salt and desperate relief.

Only when they separated, just far enough to rest their foreheads together and so Maia could still stroke her fingers through red curls, did Clary take a deep breath and let the fresh air in her lungs chase away the panic. Slowly it was replaced with relief, with the weight of clarity setting in that she was free – to go and do whatever she pleased.

“The potion,” Maia said then and leaned away further to take a look at the cauldron but Clary shook her head and nodded towards the wall behind them.

“I think we have no need for it anymore.”

Within the wall, as the Angel had crumbled to dust, the door had appeared that once a year had led Clary out to the clearing. Simple dark wood, it looked nothing like a grand escape to freedom but maybe that was the beauty of it. How easy things were now.

“Well,” Maia said when she spotted their newly formed exit. “I must admit, I will miss those reckless climbs in your hair a little bit.”

Clary laughed, then took her hands and did not bother taking a last look around the room that had been her prison for five years.

“We could have saved a lot of time and trouble if we had known that instead of simply escaping I could kill Raziel myself,” she mused as she reached for the doorknob.

When she looked back, Maia’s eyes had softened and she raised their hands to brush a kiss over Clary’s knuckles.

“Maybe. But I would not have it any other way.”

**ix.**

It was a cloudless night when the two stepped outside of the tower.

At once, Clary took off her shoes and buried her toes in the soft grass. She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh nighttime air, then squeezed Maia’s hand. Her eyes shone even under the cloak of darkness and Maia felt her heart grow heavy in her chest.

“What now?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper even though there was not another soul around to hear.

Clary frowned but the smile did not slip off her lips. “Now, you lead the way. I have no idea where your encampment is.”

Maia blinked, once, twice, then shook her head in silent wonder. “You want to come with me?”

“Of course,” Clary replied as if it was the only truth the world held. “Where else would I be going?”

“The world is wide and there is so much you have not seen yet. So much has changed, so many places-”

Clary stepped closer, reaching to gently pull Maia in by the elbows until their noses were almost touching. “But what meaning do they have if I cannot see them with you?”

“If you feel indebted to me-”

“No, Maia,” Clary interrupted, unable to let her believe this for even a second. “I _love_ you. And I never want to be parted from you. If you would have me.”

Again, Maia remained silent, frozen in place and blinking a few times. Then she shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief and suddenly glazed over with burning tears. All these nights she had hoped, had let her heart dream of a future, just maybe, where she would always feel the warmth of Clary’s embrace around her at night; would always wake up to smiles as bright as sunlight and never have to tear her heart apart again from the agony of love. It had seemed a foolish dream whenever daylight had come and she had to leave the tower behind. And now, bright and real and lovely, Clary stood before her promising just what her soul had yearned for even before she had been able to put it into words.

So Maia swallowed down the lump in her throat and tried to swallow the tears too, not wanting to make Clary wait any longer, to make her fear for even a second her feelings were unrequited.

“Clary,” she breathed the name like a prayer and let her fingertips drift over the soft skin of her jaw and cheek. “I want nothing more than just that.”

Clary’s lips split into a smile, brighter than usual and she leaned forward to rest their foreheads together.

“And…,” Maia started but her voice drifted off, broke on the words, on the frantic beat of her heart even as she knew there was no reason to be afraid; that she could let herself fall and familiar arms would be there to catch her.

“And?” Clary asked, kind and patient.

“And… I love you too. More than words could ever convey.”

No sooner had she uttered this confession of her own than Clary pulled her even closer, bringing their mouths together in a kiss full of happiness and longing and fitting for a night so life-changing. There was not much else to think or say for a while, except to hold and cherish and stay close. Until they both seemed to remember where they stood, what they had done just an hour ago and that they still had quite the journey ahead of them. So, they separated with soft chuckles, eyes still half-closed to let the moment linger.

Then Maia took Clary’s hand, squeezed her fingers and tugged her towards the line of trees she had stumbled from that fateful night many weeks ago.

“Come then, princess. There is so much I want to show you.”

Clary rolled her eyes on a giggle, pressing close to her beloved’s side and a kiss to her hair too. She faltered for a moment, coming to a stop just before the forest’s shadows could swallow them.

“Can I ask just one thing of you?”

“Anything,” Maia replied with earnest eyes.

“There is somewhere we need to go, someone I need to visit first before we leave for good.”

Maia nodded, slowly, understanding without words and they continued on and into the forest, side by side.

Behind them, the tower slowly faded into nothingness as if it had never existed in the first place.

**x.**

The next morning, Duke Valentine was found stabbed to death in his bed, the sheets coated with blood and a wave of black rose petals dusted over his body.

No one could say they were sad over his early demise but the mystery of his death remained unsolved just as the sudden disappearance of his daughter years ago.

Across the realm, Clary Fray – Stabber of Men, Killer of Angels – came back to a life full of adventure, happiness, and freedom.


End file.
